I'm tired
by Exploded Pen
Summary: One of the personnel at MASH 4077 shares their innmost feelings...who is it? Its only a short one so tis also COMPLETED!Ok its really completed now...honest...I wont write anymore....Fine so kill me! I lied!
1. A shell of a man

~*~Usual disclaimer these arent mine yadda yadda yadda~*~I know I have another story yet to finish but this one wouldn't leave me alone!~*~  
  
I'm tired of the constant exhaustion, erratic working hours and that fresh feeling of fear and despair each time we are 'acciddently' shelled.  
  
I'm tired of the food constantly tasting like mouldy rubber, of being given the same foods day in, day out and the coffee that's so strong it feels like its lead lining my stomach. Doesn't the Human Rights Act prohibit the killing of our taste buds??  
  
I'm sick of green. Green clothes, green tents, green grass, green food, green faces (after they've eaten the food) Some times it feels like I'm trapped in Emerald City! I half expect Dorothy, Toto, Scarecrow, Lion and the Tinman to come skipping into view!  
  
I'm tired of my clothes being caked in another mans blood after I've just spent the past few minutes removing the shrapnel and ammunition pieces that have assaulted their young bodies.  
  
I'm tired of smiling and laughing when inside I feel like I'm drowning in a pool of self pity and despair.  
  
I miss not being able to tell the one I love that I love her more and more with each passing second of each passing day.  
  
I'm tired of having to drink to feel any emotion after the days events have left me numb-a man totally devoid of any cheerful emotion.  
  
I'm filled with self disgust everytime there's a lull in the casualties because I get so bored I almost want something to happen: casualties, shelling anything!  
  
I'm tired of the mail never being on time-my one link to my family.  
  
Sometimes I wish I could just let all the pent up emotion explode from me but othertimes I pray that will never happen because then I'll have lost all self control.  
  
I'm tired of having to be strong, be there for others in a crisis when inside I want to curl up and close my eyes praying for the nightmare to end.  
  
I'm missing out on a lifetime of achievements made by my daughter: learning to walk, talk, sing, laugh, smile even do poos in a toilet!  
  
I hope that one day I'll wake up with my soulmate cocooned in my arms and my daughter close by, knowing that I can now keep them safe from pain and hurt.  
  
I'm afraid that Erin wont know me and will see me as a stranger or that Peg will seek solice in another mans arms because Im not there.  
  
No one must ever know how I truly feel. I'll lock my pain away, I'll keep pretending to laugh and smile. I'll be there for the others. I'll write home every day. I'll perform my surgical duties and I'll cry when the walls around my pain go astray. I'll drink, I'll joke and I'll sing-though my heart is breaking. My pain is something I must bear alone, I only hope I'm strong enough to bear it.  
  
~*~ ARRGGHH! I have no idea where this came from! but to all and sundry its now obvious the person is B.J and if you didn't know that then you need to watch more T.V!~*~ 


	2. His Mill Valley lifeline speaks out

~*~Me. Don't. Own. M*A*S*H! (~*~ Ok I know I said this was complete but you all seem to like it soo much that I decided to write another~*~  
  
You know what he calls me? His Mill Valley Lifeline. I feel more like a fisherwoman trying to reel back in her fish. Maybe that's too harsh. I know its not his fault he's in Korea, but still.  
  
Sometimes I go and watch Erin sleep. Then I think about B.J and I wonder what he's doing right now. I always imagine him sat on his cot writing letters or laughing with Hawkeye. I don't like thinking of him in danger.  
  
He thinks I can't tell that he's misreble, his letters are (mostly) upbeat, but I know, I read between the lines (see I knew English lessons were good for something). I have to write back and for his sake I keep my letters upbeat too.  
  
Sometimes in the night I wake up after rolling onto his side of the bed. Mind you the extra space is nice, I might make him sleep on the floor when he comes back.  
  
Erin-bless her has no idea what shes missing out on. I show her pictures of B.J in the hope she'll know who he is. It nearly killed me when she took her first steps and said her first word and he wasn't there to see it. It's something that'll never happen again, he's missed it, it's gone.  
  
I had a nightmare that he had an affair last night. I must admit though it is tempting to seek comfort elsewhere when you've been alone so long. If he did ever cheat on me I suppose I would be able to forgive him-eventually. But I'd never trust him again.  
  
All I have to hope is that he comes back in one piece, still my B.J with that dodgy sense of humour and practical jokes galore. I know though life'll never be the same again, he wont be the same B.J he was when he left, I can already tell the changes from his letters.  
  
But I'm strong, I'll cope.I've got no choice.  
  
~*~I thought that hardly anyone gives the point of view of family back home so hence this bit of Pegs POV. Right its definitely finished now. No more. I wont write anymore. 


	3. The father of the Indian

~*~disclaimer=normal!~*~I know I wouldn't write anymore but..I lied, I've got so many ideas buzzing round my head I cant sleep (and that's juyst really sad) so to keep my sanity, I'm keeping this going!~*~  
  
I'm tired. I feel like a tired withered old man.  
  
I'm lonely too, I'm all alone in this big Old empty house.  
  
Each morning I have to walk past his empty bedroom, still exactly how he left it except now covered in an inch thick layer of dust. His clothes in a neat pile outside the walk in wardrobe, his bed unmade, his books slung across the floor, those porno magazines sticking out from beneath his mattress and that teddy that his mom made him sat on the windowsill. His friends teased him mercilessly about that when he was a kid.  
  
I even miss waking up to a different girl at the breakfast table every weekend and trying in vain to remember their names.  
  
He always tells me exactly what he was doing in his letters, sometimes if hes been busy the ink colour even changes. So I read them and then I write back, keeping the all important inner feelings hidden.  
  
When my wife died, I think part of Hawkeye died with her, he changed that day. Everybody else thought he was just the same laughing joking but I knew that he'd built up a thick wall around his heart and that it'd take a very special person to break those walls and release the dam of tortured feelings.  
  
When the 'police action' ends he'll come back, but he wont be my little boy any more. He stopped being my little boy the day he got on that plane. And I was left watching as part of my heart flew away.  
  
But that's enough waffle from one old man. All I ever want Ben to know is that, I'll always be here for him. I'll be here when he cries, when he laughs, when he falls in love the only thing is..I wont be able to see it.  
  
~*~I know this was only very short but hey if ya like it review and if ya don't like it.still review! Constructive critizim is always a huge help!~*~ 


End file.
